The Betrayer's Little Prince
by Azshiri
Summary: With yet another war encroaching down on the residents of the Black Temple, a certain Blood Elf Prince determines that he must confess his feelings, or die trying.
1. Chapter 1

Magic. It had been a constant need for the group as they drudged along the Dead Scar. Quel'thalas lay in ruins. The Sunwell destroyed by the Scourge. The only hope they had left was true death. They had watched their brothers and sisters be slaughtered, only to be brought back as mindless ghouls. They'd been wandering for nearly two months.

Victory. It had been the stronger of the needs. But as they moved further and further south, their numbers dropped. Their spirits dropped.

Eventually, it left only a young courier.

The courier, a young girl, determined to run south, to the camp of Kael'thas Sunstrider. If nothing else, the Prince of the Sin'dorei could honor the fallen. She just had to get to him.

* * *

><p>Kael'thas frowned. Dalaran would fall soon, he could feel it. Something more important, however, tore at his core. The young girl that had run from Quel'thalas had passed out on arrival, hoarsely crying out that she had an urgent message for the prince. The High Priests had gone to her immediately, and even a Magister.<p>

The girl, Norastra, had wounds all over her legs and neck, as though something had chased her down. Her face was singed with smoke; her fingers burnt from many failed spell attempts. Norastra's face was covered in sweat and blood, but no tears. The High Priest commented on how she looked like the ghouls prancing around outside their camp.

She woke from unconsciousness immediately with shrieking.

It took some time to calm her down. Fear, fueling her existence, quickly went into explaining how the walls of Quel'thalas had crumpled, how the noble ranger general had been captured, then brutally murdered. How the strongest warriors and mages had fallen into death's embrace. The explosion of the Sunwell that disintegrated the hopes and bodies of the few remaining.

Even that did not encompass the most horrible of things.

The fact that hundreds of men and women died, their glorious home annihilated, and their world utterly shattered—it could not compare to the disgust that all those who fell now stood again. As living dead.

As the same damned creatures that sat outside their camp, slobbering on their walls.

Kael'thas rubbed his forehead, needing to ask Norastra more, but having too much heart to do so. An older priest pulled him aside after a few moments of awkward silence.

"My Prince," she stated carefully. "The girl, she's not going to make it through the night."

Kael'thas blinked a moment, looking over his shoulder at the sobbing girl. Was it really necessary for yet another one to die? Another young, innocent person had to fall to this war no one wanted?

He shook his head and returned his gaze to the priest. "How long has she?"

"I doubt she'll see the moon rise, Prince. However, the most disturbing…is that her wounds were cauterized with some sort of plague."

"She is doomed to become a slavering ghoul," Kael'thas muttered, turning his gaze back to Norastra, suddenly coughing.

"Yes, milord, I think she—"

Norastra caught on fire, her eyes glazed, but a timid smile across her face. Kael'thas muttered a small prayer for her soul, igniting her corpse as it fell to the ground. A small coo sounded from the ceiling and Al'ar descended into the ashes, chirping sadly.

"Now, Norastra, you can rest in peace knowing you won't be brought back as an opponent. When the walls of Quel'thalas reign again, a statue of you will be made in the finest gold. A hero, not only to the Quel'dorei, but to everyone," he whispered. Slowly, he turned away only to have his eyes fall on two stern women arguing with his guards.

"Night elves…" he growled. The priest nodded solemnly. She quickly turned back to the remains of Norastra to give proper blessings. Kael'thas, bitter and annoyed, stood in silence, listening to the rising voices of the two women.

"Maiev, would you _just shut up!" _ the darker haired girl hissed. She wore all the trappings of a High Priestess, so Kael'thas assumed she was so. The other girl, Maiev, growled back, barely managing to hold her temper.

"I would, _High Priestess,_ if you would stop clinging to a long-dead friendship. Illidan Stormrage, the Betrayer, must be found, and must pay for what he did!"

"You are jaded, Maiev, by clinging to a pointless vengeance! If you can hold onto that, I certainly can hold onto my relationships. At least _my friendship_ is based on something _real._"

Kael'thas couldn't help but crack a smile. These two women were older than he was and acted as though they had barely gotten out of their cribs. The name 'Illidan Stormrage' struck him, though. He remembered his father speaking of the Well of Eternity, and of his grandfather being scalded—almost to death—at the making of the second one. Amusing as the ladies' spat was, it was hardly time to watch a catfight. Confrontations at this point would only endanger more people. More elves.

He stepped out of the shadows and bowed to his two most intriguing guests. The High Priestess bowed back; the other just scoffed and crossed her arms.

"You," she growled, "are going to find Illidan Stormrage and stop him from killing us all."

For a moment, the entire encampment was silent. Then, Kael'thas laughed.

"And you have what charge over the Prince of the High Elves?"

Maiev's jaw dropped and she turned to glare at her temporarily tolerable companion. Her eyes glowed with a fire that informed Kael'thas her comrade had not told her of his status. Mentally, he applauded the Priestess. This woman needed all the humility the world could shove down her throat.

"What Maiev meant to say, Prince Sunstrider, is that we need your help, if you can spare it. There are rumors that Illidan…well, that he isn't entirely on our side."

"I see," Kael'thas replied. Maiev's face was so folded in on itself in rage he couldn't help but smirk. "You request my aid in protecting the world from a possible madman, then. Very well, I will assist you, if only because staying here will spell out all our doom."

* * *

><p>Kael'thas woke with a start. He was sweating slightly, and the room around him took just slightly too long to fade back into view. Something bright green flickered from the other side of the room, and he squinted to try and see it.<p>

"You overslept again, Kael'thas."

"Lord Illidan…" he muttered in reply. He couldn't remember the night before, which meant he fell asleep alone. Even after four years, he still struggled to stay awake through the nights, in which Illidan couldn't sleep.

"No time to apologize. Simply work to be done. Breakfast will be brought to you by one of the Succubi. Don't forget to tip her. You look like you need to."

Before Kael'thas could respond, Illidan left. He blinked a few times, wishing he'd spoken quicker. Succubi were lovely creatures, and certainly a good way to fulfill more immediate needs. Kael'thas, however, didn't have such needs. In fact, the only reason he had needs was from dreaming about his current lord.

He sighed and pulled on a robe, brushing his hair while he waited for his meal. One day, he would get the nerve up to tell Illidan Stormrage that he wanted more than just an alliance or friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

Illidan's wings folded back as he stared over the edge of the dais. The usual fel energies that swarmed around the temple seemed to be fleeing. Bending away. Draenor, for whatever reason, was descending rapidly into the Twisting Nether.

It was maddening that yet another world he tried to save and salvage was crumbling away, figuratively and literally.

Vashj, in all her loyalty and stupidity, had tried to set up a base in Shadowmoon Valley. After a few weeks of her Naga drying out, she humbly asked if they could move north, into Zangarmarsh.

Illidan didn't refuse her the rights to protect her people. The only reason he stayed on Draenor, now known as Outland, was to protect his own. Keeping the portals shut to the Legion had proved an exhausting, painful task. Many young men and women had died for that very cause.

Everywhere he went, he left a wake of destruction.

The only people that seemed to be improving, in fact, were the Blood Elves. They were learning more and more about magic and controlling it, finding new ways to feed their arcane addictions. Outland helped them not only survive, but thrive as a dominating force.

For a moment, Illidan saw his earlier life in the Blood Elves. Curious and naïve, strong and stubborn, they dug deeper into their minds and powers to learn not only how to be stronger, but how to protect their reputation and each other.

He could feel Suramar's large trees and their shade. He could hear the laughter of his two best friends. He could smell the fresh fish and talllstrider meats being brought to the markets, and even taste the breads and pastries the local bakeries made and sometimes gave to the kids for free.

The shrill shriek of a nearby Netherdrake shot the memories down. A Fel Orc's angry shouting at the drake for being such a disobedient imbecile pierced the stunned, silent air a moment before Illidan's thoughts returned.

The Blood Elves, or Sin'dorei, had brought him the closest he had been in thousands of years to having family. He remembered the day he met Kael'thas Sunstrider.

His thoughts drifted back while he watched the red and green lines of the Orc mount the prismatic Drake.

* * *

><p>"Illidan Stormrage, Betrayer of the Kal'dorei, you are under arrest for the slaughter of thousands of innocents!" Maiev shrieked, her circular glaive waving back and forth at her waist.<p>

Illidan, feeling all but dead, simply stared at her with his green, flickering 'eyes.' He had failed to destroy the Frozen Throne. He had failed to save his people. He had failed to please yet another leader. And worst of all, he had failed to get away from the craziest bitch the universe had to offer.

"Shut up Maiev," a cold, familiar voice growled. Illidan's frown deepened, his eyes fading. Not only had he failed himself, but his twin brother. The ice suddenly bit at his knees a lot harder.

"He killed High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind and you still expect to have a brotherly chat with him?"

"I intend to give him at least the chance to expla—"

"You _dare_ accuse me of killing Tyr, you bitch?" Illidan hissed, his warglaives lighting up as his hooves dug into the ice. "If anyone killed her, it was you!"

The third aura, both unfamiliar and uninteresting before, stepped forward boldly. Still unfamiliar, but fascinating, it formed into that of an elf. Shorter than his brother or Maiev, but much more vibrant in colors and movement, it became clear that this man was not only good at magic, but dependent on it for survival.

"I can't say that the High Priestess is dead, actually," he stated, glowing a bit brighter when his gaze found Illidan. "In fact, neither you or I saw her die. Simply fall in a river."

"What!" Illidan and Malfurion shouted at once, their focus on Maiev, who was fuming bitterly. For a brief moment, it was as if all of Northrend went silent.

The strange man spoke again, bolder still. "She fell into a river, and Maiev Shadowsong, here, demanded that I fulfill my oath to her in tracking down Illidan Stormrage. She made no effort to save Tyrande, saying that she was obviously lost and would quickly be devoured by the Scourge."

Malfurion, usually calm and patient with even the most obstinate creatures, latched his almost feral hands around Maiev's neck, lifting her into the air and growling at her. His eyes were slits and his aura radiated golden rage.

"Who is the Betrayer now, bitch."

* * *

><p>Kael'thas had done more than save his life and reputation. He'd revived the relationship both Illidan and Malfurion presumed dead. He'd made them more than just two men with the same last name.<p>

He'd made them brothers again.

Though it was hard for Illidan to admit, impossible for him to say, he felt obligated to not only protect Kael'thas, but repay him somehow. He owed the Sunstrider family two generations before, when in madness, he had nearly boiled Dath'remar Sunstrider alive.

Illidan's hand curled upwards, a small ball of light twisting in his palm. Lady Vashj and Kael'thas had saved him multiple times. The three of them shared the same broken past, the same bitter history. Fate may not favor any of them, but by bringing them together, gave them at least someone to depend on during their last days.

Two vials—one with an image of Queen Azshara in her perfect elven beauty, one with an intricate emblem of the sun and moon—appeared in his hand. They contained the last droplets of the original Well of Eternity. The place where, it seemed, everyone's madness overcame them.

Being bound by the tragedy of the events from the War of the Ancients, Illidan nodded to himself, ignoring the scream of the Orc who had been flung off his mount past the final boundaries of Outland.

As a sign of trust and symbol of power and care, he would give his two lieutenants a vial each. Vashj would receive the vial with her Queen on it, and Kael'thas the one with the heirloom signets.

_Perhaps,_ he mused, _the three of us can succeed where each of us has failed._


	3. Chapter 3

Kael'thas paced the hall outside of his room, waiting for reports from the scouts he sent to Shattrath. While he had orders not to attack the city, he still thought it wise to keep an eye on the people there. Any potential enemy warranted watching, whether or not Illidan agreed. But the scouts had returned and had not reported to Kael'thas. A report to Illidan would compromise his plans and their relationship. This was an unacceptable course of action.

Finally the leader of the scouts, Vaelenthor, reported to Kael'thas with a kneel.

"What did you find?"

"Shattrath is still fighting the Legion, accepting refugees, and comprised mostly of Draenei. Nothing new. Even the Naaru is chiming the same song."

"And you reported to no one else?"

"No one else, sir," the kneeling demon hunter replied. He would report to Illidan later, as he always did with Kael's 'secret' missions. The prince tended to lack the foresight and knowledge that all demon hunters reported to Illidan regardless of anyone else's orders.

"Dismissed," Kael'thas ordered and Vaelenthor stood, saluted, and left.

_Left alone with my thoughts again…You should tip the succubus, you look like you need it…was he looking at me…sexually? Was he making a move on me or just teasing me because I woke with a hard? Did he know that I dreamt about him and that's what aroused me? No, he's no scryer or mind-reader. No matter what energies he can see, he can't see my thoughts. But what do I do? I'm falling for him harder than I fell for that Proudmoore wretch._

"Kael'thas?" Illidan's voice called.

"Lord Illidan?" Kael replied, voice catching in his throat.

"Calm down, you're not in trouble. In fact, I have a gift for you."

Kael'thas gasped, trying to hold it in. His composure was less than princely and his attitude made him look childish. "A gift? F-for me?" In his mind he cursed. He, prince of the blood elves, just stuttered.

"Yes, as a sign of thanks for your loyalty and hard work. I want you to have this," Illidan said, reaching into his shaggy pants' pocket and pulling out the vial with the sun and moon on it.

"The water inside is from the original Well of Eternity. As the Kal'dorei lost their source of power, then the Quel'dorei, then the Sin'dorei, I learned it's best for elves not to build civilizations around sources of magical water."

Kael'thas laughed, trying to suppress it and look formal as he took the vial. It was truly beautiful and the water inside glistened and shimmered as it sloshed around in the glass frame.

"You have my thanks, Lord Illidan," Kael'thas replied, blushing slightly.

"I have one more gift for you, Kael," Illidan said, leaning in slightly. Kael'thas froze, terror that his arousal would return and his pants would confess their love for Illidan before Kael could.

"Don't be so nervous and uptight," Illidan mumbled before kissing Kael on the chin, then on the lips. Kael'thas swore he was melting but managed to kiss back, his arms suddenly around Illidan's neck. Illidan returned the embrace and pulled Kael'thas closer, hand twirling through his hair. And then, as alarms went off, the moment ended.

"You're my prince now," Illidan stated. "But I won't love you until you love me. I've got to go, as do you. Prepare for a full on assault, and Kael'thas?"

"Y-yes sir?"

"Come back alive."

"Yes sir. I…I will do that," Kael replied as he mentally beat himself for not saying that he did love Illidan. The world was moving too fast around them. Pride, regalia, years of training, practice, and obeying formalities all faded away when Illidan handed him the vial. Then any sense of being a royal member of Silvermoon's society drifted away as those deep purple lips met his own. It was bliss. He didn't have to be a leader when Illidan was around. It was almost perfect except Kael'thas wanted to lead too.

_We'll play that game later,_ Kael'thas thought as he ran to gather his troops. Fortunately, he was wearing full robes so he could hide his erection.  
>"We prepare all the walls—east, west, and south. Five rangers go to the north wall to watch for incoming drakes, infernals, or other aerial assault weapons they might use to take us from behind. Lord Sanguinar, you lead the ground troops. Telonicus, you aid the catapults, cannons and void reavers. Thaladred, you will flank Sanguinar. Capernian, you and Solarian guide the mages' attacks. Al'ar, you send down a fiery death upon them, my dearest, and I will be on the dais sending Al'ar with weak spots to take advantage of. Orders understood?"<p>

"Yes sir, milord," came a resounding reply from the 50 or so blood elves in front of him. Kael'thas smirked as they ran to do their bidding, caught off guard by the hand that grabbed his shoulder.

"Teron Gorefiend, wanting a word with you, Prince Kael'thas. I've had a vision you need to see," the human-orc stated. Kael'thas shrugged Gorefiend's hand off of his shoulder and nodded.

"I'll see it. Can it be done here, we're under siege."

Gorefiend nodded with a sickly grin, unfolding his wings and showing a band of blood elves in Shattrath bowing to the Naaru in the center, weapons laid down and heads bowed, as though asking for forgiveness. At the front was Voren'thal, then the image shifted.

"I, Lady Liadrin—static muffled the rest of her speech but her words weren't needed for Kael'thas to understand what she was doing. Gorefiend had a vision of a blood elf rebellion.

"Hoping it's just me drinking too much, I see."

"We will deal with it if we must, for now, there are more important things to worry about. Thank you for the warning. I will contemplate it when meteors aren't aiming for my skull."

"The wheels of death go round and round, round and round, round and round. The wheels of death go round and round, all the time," Gorefiend sang as he stumbled back to his post. Kael'thas stared at him a moment, wondering exactly how such freakish things could be his allies, but he shook his head to clear his mind. He had to get up to the dais to do his job. His people counted on it.


End file.
